Half of it spent in furious carnal activity with Candy, alternately bonking and posing for her endless sketches until, on Saturday evening, his miraculous erection had collapsed like a punctured balloon. Candy had tucked him up in bed by himself in a cosy room and left him to sleep, waking him only to administer bowls of chicken soup made, so she told him, by her very own cook. Now, on Monday morning, Billy felt refreshed and full of beans. His pleasure was enhanced by the luxuriant greenery of his surroundings as he sat in Imogen Almond's conservatory and waited for her to join him for breakfast. He had been summoned directly from La Kensington's mansion. After his heroics in Candy's bath and bedrooms it seemed he was back in good odour. And so, he reflected with some satisfaction, he deserved to be. A door opened behind him and Imogen emerged dressed in a skintight leotard of shiny vermilion and black leggings. Her hair was tied back off her head in a ponytail. She wore no makeup and the colour was high on her cheeks.
